Radio-TV mirror (July-Dec 1954)

PHOTOPLAY EXCLUSIVE ! Full-Page-Color-Photo of ANN BLYTH, HER HUSBAND and their NEW BABY. Plus— COMPLETE LIFE STORY OF DEBBIE REYNOLDS LIVING IT UP WITH BOB WAGNER PHOTOPLAYS GOLD MEDAL AWARDS — your chance to vote for your favorites in . . . NOVEMBER PHOTOPLAY America's Largest-Selling Movie Magazine At All Newsstands Now FHOR PPLAY q ANN BIYBCS^ NEW BABY 1« IffB^ tH sm siedu mums BE A GLAMOUR HEAD'S • -c-'v/^. '.. •■, ;j ' ' ^ twg II lip "!" nj 108 WAGNER ^j Kfc-^BH *^n ?* ^dHO Extra Added Attraction HAIR-CARE SECRETS FROM THE STARS GET NOVEMBER PHOTOPLAY 74 ON SALE NOW So Young and So in Love {Continued from page 49) dressed like Israelites of almost 2,000 years ago, standing together in the shadow of the RCA Building. "You sang that bit beautifully," Russ told her. "I liked the way you did the messenger bit," she countered. "You could've hammed it up, but you didn't." "You look so beautiful in that outfit — " She laughed. "Thanks. You look nice, too — even in that dress-type thing you're wearing." "Could I come to see you in a plain business suit?" Her smile faded. "I live at the Barbizon Hotel for Women," she said. "And I've got a date. . . ." Sadly, Russ changed his clothes and took the Seventh Avenue subway to Greenwich Village, where he was staying with some friends, being unable to afford a hotel room or apartment of his own. His friends, a happily married couple, were decorating their tree. Russ helped, sitting on the floor and passing over baubles and tinsel to his hostess. But he couldn't get the picture of Liza, lovely and sweet, or the sound of her clear deep voice, out of his mind. The Christmas happiness of his host and hostess made him feel even more lonely than he'd have felt if he'd been staying in a hotel. When the wine was broken out at midnight, and he had to join the family circle singing "Noel," he could feel the tears smarting in his eyes. rle'd never been so foolishly sentimental before in his life, and he wondered why. The answer was suddenly clear and sharp in his mind. He missed being with Liza. "Good heavens," he thought, "I'm in love! I can't be — I've only known her for a few minutes. But let's face it, I'm really in love."' He went to the phone in the hall and called her hotel. "Miss Palmer is out, sir," the switchboard operator said. "Would you take a message? 'Mr. Russell Arms wishes Miss Palmer a Merry Christmas.' " "Will that be all?" "That'll be all." He was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the show — and Liza — when he heard the phone ringing out in the hall. He grabbed the tops to his pajamas and went runing for it. Liza had called him. "Miss Liza Palmer wishes Mr. Arms a Merry Christmas, too," she said. "Look," he said, "I know it's late — " "It's nearly two." "I know. I know! But if I could just see you for a little while, a minute or two — if we just didn't have to break it off right now, so soon. . . ." There was a long silence, while she thought about it. But she'd fallen in love, too, that night. "All right," she said. "Half an hour?" "I'll be there in twenty minutes," he said. They met on the street corner. Neither one of them talked of where they would go. Russ took Liza's arm in his, and they started to walk. They didn't even speak, for a long time. The night was very cold. They walked along the sidewalks, arm in arm, perfectly happy together, their breaths twin plumes of frosty air ahead of them. They were both broke, both ambitious, both utterly, magnificently happy. Central Park was their scenery, the honking of cabs their music. Sometime around dawn, when the sky was growing lighter above them, they came back to her hotel. They'd talked, some. They knew each was a native Californian, that they had twin interests besides the strange, inescapable attraction they had for each other. At the door of her hotel, while the street-sweeping machine and the garbage trucks vied with each other for control of all sound, Russ took Liza in his arms and kissed her. "Merry Christmas, Liza," he said. "I'm in love with you." "Merry Christmas, Russ," she answered. A long moment went by. "All right," she added, "I feel the same way about you. Only — shall we wait a little while, and see how it goes?" "I don't want to wait." "Neither do I— but . . ." "I know how you feel," he said. "You're right, after all. We'll wait a while. But I know, now, and I won't change my mind." "Please don't, Russ," she said. That's the way the love story of Russell Arms and his wife, Liza Palmer, began. You have seen him in dozens of movies and on Your Hit Parade. You have seen her in scores of TV appearances. You have registered the fact that he is handsome and that she is beautiful. Frankly, this is a happy story. Two attractive people fell in love at first sight, married, and made a superb go of their marriage. Today, they live together in a Flushing garden development and adore their home, happiness, and each other. Let's pick up Russ and Liza a few days after that first Christmas. It was raining, hard. Russ met Liza in front of her hotel, and they started to walk. He carried the big black umbrella. She began to sing. She ended her song on the word "white," and turned to him. He started to sing "White Christmas" in the same key. After a while, he stopped, too. She thought a minute, then took the last word he had sung and began a new tune. Together, under the umbrella, they walked the streets of New York, singing their game, a kind of vocal Scrabble. The trouble was, both were broke and both wanted to put a best foot forward. She was only nineteen, he was twenty-three, and neither had ever been in love before. Liza was paying $19.50 a week for her room in the Barbizon then, and although it had a basin there was no private bath. She had a terrible time scraping up that much rent every week, and as for food — well, when a girl doesn't have a dinnerdate she can always buy a box of crackers and a hunk of salami. When you're nineteen and all-out to make a big success in New York, food and shelter are the least of your worries. But Liza wanted above all else to look nice for Russ, and she just didn't have the money or the wardrobe to do anything about it. That was where her friends on the same floor in the Barbizon, mostly young models, came in. "They were all wonderful," Liza remembers now. "You see, one of the reasons I was so desolate that Christmas was because the only people I knew in New York — these girls who lived on the same floor with me — had mostly all gone home for the holidays. I couldn't afford to go clear to California — I could hardly afford to go across the street, really. "And then we were in the habit of lending our clothes to one another all the time, so that we each gave the impression of being well-dressed — when all ary of us really had was a tiny closet sparsely filled with a few good things. The other girls began to come back just as I ran out of 'changes' for my dates with Russ. I told them what had happened to me, that I was genuinely in love and had to marry Russ or die, and they all understood. "There wasn't a girl on that floor who didn't come to me with a skirt or a blouse or a wrap or a freshly washed pair of hose, every evening. 'Seeing Russ tonight?'